Hexe - The Great Exodus

[CH. 0023] - The Little King and the Mage

Tod es blut tu!

Phrase

Translation: Death is your blood!

Definition: A grave proclamation or curse, implying that death is inherent in the very blood of the person addressed. It echoes the fatalistic view of human life, where the red blood signifies a predetermined path to death, marking humans as inherently doomed or cursed due to their mortality. How weak they are compared to other blood types.

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The tension between Noctavia and Xendrix had been building, almost imperceptibly, over the course of their week-long journey. Xendrix had grown increasingly frustrated with their apparent lack of direction and Noctavia's deteriorating condition. Her frequent episodes of illness, coupled with her reluctance to share any information, only served to amplify his impatience.

As they settled down for the night, with the campfire crackling and casting flickering shadows around them, Xendrix's frustration reached a boiling point. Upon Noctavia's return from the bushes, looking pale and wiping her mouth, he couldn't hold back his irritation. "Maybe you need to eat to stop feeling sick!" he blurted out, his tone more accusatory than concerned. "You barely touched your food."

Noctavia, weary and on edge with the disgusting smell of cabbage stuck in her nostrils, snapped back defensively. "Maybe you need to meddle in your own affairs!" She slumped against a tree, the bark rough against her back, her face a mask of exhaustion and annoyance.

Xendrix, driven by his own need to progress in his elemental training, pressed on, oblivious to the strain in her voice. "If you're sick, you can't teach me fire and air! I need you!"

"And I'm here!"

"You look like you're dying!"

At that moment, something inside Noctavia snapped. The cumulative weight of physical ailment, the burden of responsibility as a mentor, and the frustration of dealing with a headstrong young prince converged into a moment of raw vulnerability.

Her usual composed demeanour cracked.

In a quick, almost reflexive motion, Noctavia unsheathed her copper dagger from her belt. With an agility that belied her recent illness, she leapt towards Xendrix. Her movements were swift and precise, like a blitz unleashed. Her wings unfurled behind her, a breathtaking expanse that shimmered like a celestial tapestry of stars and galaxies.

In one fluid motion, she seized Xendrix's hand, holding it firmly in her grasp. The sharp edge of the dagger glinted ominously in the firelight before she plunged it into the soft flesh of his palm.

Xendrix, caught off guard, could only watch in shock as a bead of blood welled up from the wound. With a deliberate gesture, Noctavia turned his hand towards his face, forcing him to confront the reality of his own vulnerability.

"I'm not dying. You are!" she declared with anger. "Tod es blut tu! In my veins flows the very essence of magic, a power that you and your descendants will never possess. My presence here is not for your personal gain but because my Hexe, my Yeso, took pity on your kind!"

Releasing his hand, she stood up and moved away with some parting words spoken over her shoulder, "And you should be more polite to a woman who is expecting. I believe that is common human courtesy!"

The revelation that Noctavia was pregnant left Xendrix stunned and likely reevaluating his earlier perceptions and comments.

The young prince, usually so brash and self-assured, was visibly shaken, his usual facade of confidence crumbling.